When Angels Fly Away
by claw06
Summary: Before the ZA, Daryl was a marine who'd been medically discharged for severe PTSD and depression. Can he keep this hidden from the group? Especially when his meds run out? SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Before the ZA, Daryl was a marine who'd been medically discharged for severe PTSD and depression. Can he keep this hidden from the group? Especially when his meds run out? S3 AU**

 **Pairing: Rickyl**

 **Warnings: Trigger WARNING; Depression: PTSD; Canon-typical violence; Daryl Whump; Implied Torture and Abuse; Protective! Merle**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

 _ **I'll make a soldier's decision to fly away**_

 _ **Load my gun paint my face call me Misery**_

 _ **I can see the sky light up and the ground explode**_

He was trapped.

Daryl curled in on himself, every muscle tensed. His normally crystal blue eyes were a dull colorless grey and gazed blankly at the walls of his tent.

He was trapped somewhere that no one could save him from.

His mind.

His _memories_.

Memories of burning sand and blistering midday suns. Of the coppery scent of blood and water flooding burning lungs. Of pain and the recoil of a machine gun and _'Just a few more days'_.

Beside him, Merle watched him with sad grey eyes wishing he could reach out the man he had somewhat raised. He couldn't though, not after what happened last time.

A quiet whimper left his brother, who flinched violently and curled in tighter, his lean frame trembling even as his eyes began to clear.

"M-Mer?"

Merle smiled softly, knowing it was safe to move closer now that the fit was over, and began to stroke the younger's soft sandy blond hair. Six months and Daryl's PTSD only seemed to be getting worse, especially with the end of the world happening.

"I'm here, Lil D."

"What happened? Did I have another episode?"

Merle nodded and sighed. "You're almost outta meds, Baby Brother. Need ta getcha some more when I go on that run."

His little brother shook his head, grey-blue eyes troubled.

"I have a bad feeling 'bout that run."

The elder Dixon scowled and gave stressed sigh. "Me too. Don' trust these people as far as I can throw 'em…but you need the medicine, Daryl. You're getting worse."

Daryl looked away guiltily and sat up.

"I know." He snarled in frustration and Merle gave him a sad smile, frowning as he heard Shane calling for the group heading into town. His brother frowned as well, then sighed.

"Be careful, Merle."

The elder Dixon smirked, trying to ignore the dread building in his gut that told him he wouldn't be coming home from this one.

* * *

Merle Dixon was a handful.

Rick couldn't help but scowl at the boisterous man as he cursed and struggled against the handcuffs binding him to the large metal pipe on the building.

"I'm fuckin' serious, Officer Friendly! Let me outta these things." The man snarled but the fear in his eyes was very real. Strangely enough the fear didn't even seem to be for himself, but for someone else. Someone back at the camp Glenn had told him about.

Beside the man sat a large Ziploc bag full of different bottles of medicine, which he kept trying to hide from the others. Of course, Andrea saw them and glared at him.

"You did all of that for some drugs?!" She shrieked and he sneered at her.

"You don' know nothin' so shut yer yap."

"I know you're a drug addicted, selfish asshole."

Merle ignored her and turned his gaze back onto Rick.

"Let me out."

The former cop stared at him for a moment, somehow able to tell that the drugs in the bag weren't for some recreational purpose. No, Merle was getting them for someone important to him, someone that didn't want anyone to know they were ailing.

"T-Dog, hand me the keys."

The dark-skinned man nodded and moved to hand him the keys only to trip over a nearby pipe. The keys flew through the air and Rick rushed to grab them only to watch dismayed as they fell down a drain for too deep for them to reach.

Merle shook his head in panicked disbelief and yanked on the cuffs so hard his wrists began to bleed.

"This ain't funny!" He cried. "Let me outta these things!"

The snarls of walkers reached their ears and grisly hands reached through the doors and T-Dog hurriedly grabbed an abandoned chain and bound the door, preventing the Walkers from entering the rooftop.

"We'll be back for you." Rick promised knowing it was much too dangerous to stay where they were any longer.

Merle continued to struggle, trying to force his hands free from their bonds.

"Please! Don't leave me here!" He yelled. "Don't leave me here!"

"I'm sorry." T-Dog apologized. "I'm so sorry."

Rick ushered them all through the other door, watching as Merle stilled and watched them with betrayal clear in his eyes. The older man collapsed back against the pipe, wrists bloody, and picked up the bag of meds, tossing it at him. He caught it deftly.

"There's a man at our camp named Daryl. Give those to 'im and tell 'im, I'm sorry."

"We're gonna come back for you." Rick promised but Merle snorted skeptically.

"You might…but they won't."

* * *

Hiding the meds in the pack Morgan had given him, he sent the man one last glance and left the roof. Later that day, as they were driving back to camp, Rick finally had a chance to ask the question that had been bugging him since leaving Merle on the rooftop.

"It's not too bad that you left Merle…I mean the guy was terrible and no one will really miss him," Morales tried to reassure him the paused. "Except maybe Daryl."

There was that name again. This was his chance to find out more about the person Merle obviously cared so much about. "Daryl?"

Andrea shifted uncomfortably. "Merle's baby brother. Real quiet guy, he doesn't really talk much. Spends most of his time hunting."

Rick's heart sank. A brother. He had deprived someone of what was probably their only living relative in this post-apocalyptic hell.

Morales sighed. "Bad temper though. Ain't never had a tongue lashing as bad as the one Dixon gave me when he thought I was 'bout to fight Merle."

Rick stayed silent and he could only hope that this 'Daryl' character would forgive him.

As luck would have it, when they arrived at the camp he was reunited with his own family, something that made him feel even worse about what he had done. He had left another man's family for dead only to be reunited with his own mere hours later. As they sat around the fire eating, he was informed that the younger Dixon was out hunting and had been since the group had left two days previous. His heart ached at the news as he realized that the man was expecting to come back to his older brother, alive and well and would only find grief. A grief the others in the group didn't seem to share if the barely hidden relief in their eyes was any indication.

Only the children and a kind woman named Carol actually seemed to think that Merle being left behind was a bad thing. It kind of made him wonder.

Just what kind of man was Merle Dixon?

* * *

Daryl Dixon was beautiful.

Messy sandy blond hair fell in disarray atop his head, falling into stormy grey-blue eyes, thin pink lips accented by the beauty mark near the left side of his mouth. He was lean and agile, full of a predatory grace that made Rick swallow thickly.

He'd just left the man's brother for dead, he shouldn't be checking him out.

The hunter's keen gaze danced across each of their faces, picking them apart mercilessly…then he looked around.

"Where's m' brother?" He growled, grip tightening on his crossbow and muscles tensing.

"There was a problem in Atlanta." Shane started and the younger Dixon glanced at him.

"Is he dead?"

"We don't know." Daryl scowled darkly.

"Either he is or he ain't!" He snapped, but the pain in his voice was so raw that Rick couldn't help but step forward.

That sharp gaze snapped to him immediately and he fought a flinch.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Rick Grimes."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "Rick _Grimes,_ you got something you wanna tell me?"

"Your brother was a danger to us all, so I… handcuffed him to a pipe on the roof. He's still there."

The blond stilled, his hands tightening around the squirrel line on his shoulder.

"Hold up, lemme process this. You're saying that you handcuffed my brother to the roof… _and you left him there!_ " Something feral echoed in the man's voice as he snarled at them, stormy eyes flashing with something Rick couldn't recognize.

"It was my fault," T-dog interfered. "I dropped the key."

Daryl glared at him. "You couldn't pick it up?" He sneered and the other looked down guiltily.

"It went down the drain."

The hunter paced cagily, then covered his eyes, shoulders trembling. Rick's heart broke.

"To hell with y'all!" He yelled voice cracking and Rick swallowed thickly, jumping back as the hunter snarled and threw a rope of squirrels at him then lunged. Before he could reach him, Shane tackled him to the ground and had him in a chokehold.

Something akin to panic flashed in the man's eyes, his body tense as he struggled to get free. His skin paled to an ashen color but he fought not to let the panic take hold and Rick found himself amazed, when the man spoke. There wasn't a trace of panic or fear, only anger and indignation.

"Chokeholdin's illegal." He snapped and Shane smirked.

"File a complaint." He sneered and Daryl let out a wordless snarl, struggling harder and more vicious against Shane, who seemed to be straining to hold on to him.

Around them, the other members of the group watched, and Rick felt a small trickle of disgust for them. The man was grieving and he was lashing out just any of them would have. So why were they making it seem like he was being irrational.

"Hey," He called gently, drawing the man's attention.

"He'll let you go, _if_ you listen to us rationally. Can you do that?"

Daryl relaxed in Shane's hold for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah."

Rick nodded and gestured for Shane to release the man. The older male did so with a sneer on his lips, but it went ignored as he went about placating the agitated hunter. Ten minutes later, he found himself in a van with said hunter and a few others, praying that Merle Dixon was alive. If he wasn't, Rick had a feeling that they would be discovering just how dangerous the younger Dixon could be.

 **TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Merle jerked at the painfully familiar voice that reached his ears, dehydration, pain, and blood loss making his head spin as gentle, yet callous hand yanked the saw away from him.

He looked up, smiling slightly at the wide-eyed man staring back at him, panic in his eyes.

"Hey there, Lil D. Merle's alright." He slurred, fighting to keep his eyes open.

His baby brother snorted, hands trembling as he helped him sip from his canteen. Merle sighed, feeling his energy slowly return as the life-giving liquid hit his throat.

Officer Friendly stood behind Daryl his gun fixed on the door, while the Asian kid dug through his backpack for one thing or another. The black guy treated his wrist, tensing at their close proximity, and he was tempted to spout more of the bullshit he'd been saying at the quarry just to rile him further.

A tense glare from his brother stopped that train of thought, the younger man pulling the bottle from his lips and replacing it with a protein bar.

"Think you're well enough to fight?"

Merle took mental stock of his body, then nodded.

He wasn't a hundred percent but he was well enough to take down as many biters as need be.

Daryl stared at him for a moment, keen eyes assessing him, and he could practically see the warrior in his brother shoving its way to the forefront. It always stunned him to see the transformation, because for the longest time, he'd been Daryl's protector. He'd never done a very good job of it, but it had been enough to get the younger through his childhood without losing his innocence to their father's violence.

War had changed that.

War had taken what little innocence his brother had left and shattered it with brutal efficiency turning the man in front of him into a warrior, one of the best the military had ever seen. He'd been one of the youngest people to even make it into special ops, and his codename, Lycan, was well known among all the branches as being the deadliest man America had ever produced.

He should be proud…but it hurt.

He'd never wanted that for his brother.

Daryl had been a precocious child, with artistic and musical talents the rest of their family lacked. He remembered listening to the boy sing when their Pa was out getting drunk at one bar or another, listening as over the year his voice went from the high pitch of a child to the smooth low pitch of a tenor, then vanish all together, when he stopped singing completely.

Staring into hard grey-blue eyes, as he was helped to his feet, he pushed it all away, focusing on the present. Now wasn't the time to reminisce on the past, not when it had shaped his brother into a man capable of surviving the world as it was now. Only at night as he slept would he allow himself to dream of what could've been.

 ***/***

Daryl Dixon was deadly.

It shouldn't be such an arousing thought but as Rick thought back to how the younger man had moved as they fought the walkers, the low dark drawl he'd used to threated the kid that got Glenn kidnapped, and the brutally efficient way he'd dealt with the walkers as they escaped, he couldn't help the trill of lust it sent racing down his spine.

The hunter was beautiful and something about him called to Rick's dominant nature in a way Lori never had, the danger coiled in his lean body only making the want to dominate him that much more thrilling. He doubted Dixon would be as submissive as some of the subs he'd had before marrying Lori. His wife, who was far from fond of his dominate behavior and the lifestyle he'd lived before it, was very vanilla in the bedroom and he'd been left to wrangle in that side of his personality since they'd gotten together. He hadn't minded much, as no one had appealed to him in that fashion…at least until now.

There was something about the hunter that made him want to hold him and take care of him, even knowing he could care for himself and the urge was so strong that when the man leaned against his injured brother exhausted, he'd only just resisted wrapping a blanket around him and stroking his hair.

Shaking his head to get his thoughts under control, he turned his attention back to their steadily approaching destination.

The camp was under attack.

Hurriedly he parked the van and exited, diving into the fray.

Around him, he could see the others joining as well, bullets flying and melee weapons swinging.

Both Dixons were blurs of movement, the smaller nearly dancing as he cut down opponent after opponent.

Rick could be forgiven if his dick twitched just the slightest bit in interest.

He tried not feel guilty about the thoughts, especially when he noticed the both Shane and Lori were missing from the fray.

He knew that if it meant what he thought it did then perhaps his thoughts about the younger Dixon could be forgiven.

Even if Merle was glaring at him with the hell of an overprotective sibling burning in his eyes.

 ***/***

Daryl wasn't sure what to think of Rick Grimes.

The man had been keeping a close eye on him since they'd rescued Merle and if it were anyone else, his paranoia would've been flaring and yet something in the man's gaze called to him.

There was a sense of safety that emanated from him, that made everything in him yearn to be wrapped in that warmth, a thought that made him scowl.

This was the man who'd left Merle handcuffed to a rooftop for fuck's sake!

What the hell was wrong with him?

Growling in frustration her drove his pick axe into the skull of the walker in front of him harder than necessary, ignoring the flashes of bloodstained fields that tried to superimpose themselves over his surroundings. He couldn't afford to have a fit right now, not around all these people, none of whom he trusted barring Merle. He needed to take his meds and soon, or he would hurt someone.

Seeking out his elder brother's form with his eyes, his lips curled into a vicious snarl, eyes flashing when he saw Walsh and Grimes teaming up on him, the elder Dixon's shot gun pointed on the man they called Jim. A bloody bite mark marred the man's arm and he could automatically tell what had happened.

What the hell was wrong with these people?

Didn't they know if they left the man alive he'd turn, and then there was a chance he'd kill them all, children included.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He snarled, storming over and shoving Walsh away from his brother.

The man was still injured and if Walsh hurt him more, he'd kill him, humanity be damned.

"We don't kill the living." Grimes said and Daryl scowled.

"You left him on a roof to die and now you're pointing a gun at him. You don't have a right to play moral high ground, Grimes." He snapped and the man frowned.

"Jim is not a dog to be put down Daryl!"

"No, he's infected! The bites turn ya. The scratches turn ya! There is no cure! If you leave him alive he'll turn and all of our lives will be at stake. My vote, take care of it now."

"Is that what you'd want?" Rick tried and Daryl snorted. "I'd pull the trigger myself."

Everyone froze, staring at the hunter who shook his head and turned to Merle.

"I'm gonna put our shit in the truck while they try to decide what to do." His piece said and stormed away, ignoring them all. If they wanted to play for sainthood fine, but he wanted no part of it.

And if the sun reminded him of the blistering heat of Iraq, well no one had to know.

 ***/***

The CDC was a bust.

He and Daryl had tried to tell everyone but with them being Dixons no one had bothered to listen and now they were trapped inside the building with a doctor hellbent of blowing the place to kingdom come.

Grimes and Walsh were fucking idiots.

Beside him, he could see Daryl pale, his hands trembling as he tried to control his breathing and he prayed that the other man could stave off the fit set off by watching the TS-19 video Jenner had just finished playing.

"Let us out!" He growled, raising the ax in his hands threateningly and Jenner sighed.

"It's better this way." He tried to assure them. "Painless. Your children won't feel pain or hunger, afraid and uncertain whether every day would be their last. Afraid of the undead walking among us."

"Please," The grey-haired woman, Carol, pleaded clutching her daughter to her chest and he felt something in him ache at the sight.

Grimes' wife was holding her child as well, sobbing in terror at the thought that this could be her son's last day on earth.

They continued to plead and finally Jenner released them. Fighting their way out of the building, Merle grabbed his brother, grateful they managed to reach his truck before the building exploded, otherwise the fit that followed would've had the entire camp pestering the younger Dixon.

His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at the sleeping man in the passenger seat.

Especially Grimes.

He'd seen the interest in Grimes eyes as he looked at his baby brother, the dark vestiges of lust that lingered there as he tracked Daryl's every move. Worse, he's seen the interest returned in Daryl's eyes, even if his baby brother seemed confused about his own emotions.

However, Grimes was married and Daryl was too good to play second to the man's wife and child. Plus, with his PTSD growing worse by the day, despite the medicine, he wouldn't dare allow Rick to fuck with the boy's emotions. It didn't even matter to him that Grimes' wife and Walsh were sleeping together, if Grimes thought he would use Daryl to get back at them he had another thing coming.

Merle would make sure he knew better…even if he had to break his bones to do it.

 **TBC…**


End file.
